


Anniversaries (Or the Beach Episodes)

by FalseRoar



Series: Can You Wake Up? [9]
Category: Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series), markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Beach House, Birthday, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Host Temporary Sight, Magic, Mark Fischbach Egos, Post-Who Killed Markiplier?, Sean McLoughlin Egos, Ship Teasing, Tiny Y/N, one year anniversary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 09:22:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20207419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalseRoar/pseuds/FalseRoar
Summary: A short fic written to celebrate Can You Wake Up?'s one year anniversary, originally posted on Tumblr. As the Host and Jack's birthday nears, your friends realize that another anniversary is coming up--it's been one year since you left the mirror. With so many reasons to celebrate, it only makes sense to rent a beach house and spend a few days away from it all. Too bad the surprise means you have to change some of your own carefully made plans, but the extra effort is worth it to make one day worth remembering for a very special friend.





	1. A Little Magic

“So, that’s the general idea,” Marvin said. His bright blue eyes, highlighted by the cat mask he wore, flickered back and forth between the two of you. “We just need to test it out.”

Jameson twisted his mouth as he considered the magician’s offer and spoke, his voice silent but a speech slide with his words flashing before Marvin and yours eyes after a slight delay. _“Sounds fascinating, but are you sure it’s safe?”_

“I’ve done the research and the spell itself is good, we just need to make sure the timing delay works.” He looked at you as he added, “The last thing we want is any surprises on the big day.”

You nodded, even though you could understand why Jameson looked so nervous. Something about this spell Marvin had dug up just in time sounded too good to be true, but then you weren’t sure how long he had been searching for it, either.

“And,” Marvin added as he held up another book, “I have a reversal spell right here if it doesn’t go back the way it should.”

Jameson tapped his finger on the long table that took up most of the space in the room. As far as you knew, the conference room in the Septic ego house was barely used outside of the occasional Bro Average video shoot, and Marvin had claimed that it would give you all more privacy than the other rooms. Plus, it gave him extra space to spread out all of the books and materials that he apparently needed for this spell.

“I still don’t see how this can work as a surprise if we need all of this,” you said, and the magician shrugged.

“We already know who we want it to affect, and for how long. Knowing that much, I can easily set it up beforehand so it can be triggered at the right time, even by someone else.”

_“But why an hour?”_ Jameson asked Marvin. He glanced at you, his brow furrowed. _“That seems like a long time!”_

“It’s a nice, round number, and easy to scale,” Marvin answered. He grinned and added, “Plus, it’s just long enough for us to have some fun if it does work…Or, you know, fix it before we get in trouble or risk spoiling the surprise.”

His smile faded as he locked eyes with you and added, “Of course, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Y/N.”

“No, I want to at least try,” you said and, seeing that Jameson was still concerned, added, “I’ll be okay, really.”

He returned your smile out of reflex, but he still seemed less than sure as he said, _“Then take it away, magic man!”_

Marvin nodded and began to read aloud from the thick leather volume that took up most of the space in front of him. The words blurred together into a variety of whispers and it was hard to keep the masked magician sitting across the table from you in focus. Beside you, Jameson also blinked and shook his head as if trying to stay awake.

But it was when Marvin turned the page without pausing for breath that you felt something lurch in your stomach and had to lean forward, your forehead almost touching the table, to keep from being sick as the room spun around you. It wasn’t until the speech slide flashed across your vision that you realized the spinning and the spell had stopped.

_“Golly! …That don’t look right, Marv.”_

For a moment, you wondered how you had ended up on the floor as you stared down at the polished wood beneath your hands and knees, but it slowly occurred to you that there was carpeting in the conference room, not hardwood floors. You looked up and the room seemed to twist again before settling into the image of Marvin across the wide expanse of the table between you, his mouth open but no sound coming out, and the shape of Jameson looming large to your left and behind you.

Both stared down at your small form as you slowly got up to your feet and patted yourself down. Aside from the size, you otherwise seemed fine.

“…Marvin?” you asked, and a choked sound came from the magician before he clamped a hand to his mouth.

“Mark is going to kill me. _Dark_ is going to kill me…They’re going to fight over who gets to kill me first.”

_“Or maybe they’ll team up and do it together,”_ Jameson added, receiving a glare from Marvin in response. The ego leaned down so that he was on eye level with you and you quickly backed up until you were around the center of the table. That close, Jameson was just too big. _“How do you feel?”_

“Better now that the spell’s stopped, but…” You gestured down to yourself and turned around to face Marvin. “What went wrong?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know! It should have worked, I went over it again and again, I—” Marvin paused in the act of flipping the page back to the start of the spell. With a dawning sense of horror, he turned the page again before using his thumb to peel apart what turned out to be two pages, stuck together by…yeah, you don’t want to think about what was sticking them together. He groaned and his forehead hit the table with a thump so hard it nearly shook you off your feet. “I mixed two spells together.”

“Can you fix it?” you asked and felt a sudden surge of relief when you heard the muttered yes come from the magician’s slumped form.

He tilted his head up so that his chin now rested on the tabletop and studied you for a moment. “A simple growth spell should do it?”

You exhaled through your teeth and said, “Not really sounding sure there, Marvin.”

“Don’t worry, I can fix this,” he said, making an effort to sound more sure of himself as he sat up and began flipping through the second book. The frantic flipping of the pages sent breezes of air your way that smelled of dust and old paper, and you had to turn away to keep from coughing or sneezing.

_“Well, now we know if the first spell doesn’t work, we always have a backup plan,”_ Jameson said. He reached out carefully with a single finger and gently, gently touched the top of your head. _“A tiny Y/N would make for an adorable birthday present!”_

“Knock it off!” you said, pushing his finger away but trying not to laugh. “I don’t think I’d ever live it down if the others saw me like this.”

“Ah, we can fix this before any of the others find out, and definitely before I get into trouble,” Marvin said, just a split second before someone knocked on the door.

The world around you went dark as Jameson dropped his bowler hat on top of you, and through the fabric you could hear the clatter of chairs knocking back before Marvin asked in the guiltiest voice ever, “Who is it?”

“Howdy bitches!” You heard the giggle that immediately followed that greeting and didn’t need the speech slide from Jameson to realize who it was.

_“Jack! What brings you around here?”_

“I thought I’d drop in for lunch with you guys today,” Jack said, by the sound of it walking fully into the room. “Huh, I thought Schneeps said Y/N was in here with you two.”

“They, uh, had to go home early—” Marvin said, just as Jameson’s speech slide crashed into view with the words, _“They went to their room—”_

Both stopped short, and the three of them failed to see you facepalm in the darkness beneath the hat before you reached underneath the brim and lifted it up and over until the hat rolled back.

“Hey, Jack,” you said, and he immediately clamped a hand to his mouth. Well, now you knew where Marvin got that gesture from.

“I can fix it?” Marvin said, one hand tugging nervously on the corner of his blue cape.

“Marvin was trying to help me with a spell,” you said quickly, before Jack could say anything to the ego. “We were just testing it out, and something went wrong.”

_“Just a LITTLE wrong,”_ Jameson said and grinned when Jack couldn’t fight back a smile at that.

“You…” Jack swallowed back whatever he was going to say, looking a little disappointed in himself for laughing at that. “What have I told you about trying out your magic on the others?”

“Have a camera running in case it’s funny?”

You shot Jack a look and he shrugged. “Funny’s funny. Can you really fix it?”

“Just a simple growth spell,” Marvin said again as he turned back to his book. “Just give me a second.”

“Then I’m going to do this,” Jack said as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“Don’t you dare,” you warned, but he’d already snagged one picture, and then he and Jameson were kneeling beside the table, camera angled to catch you standing behind them.

“You guys suck,” you said after he was done, as if you didn’t stick your tongue out or make faces in more than one of those pictures.

“Okay, got it!” Marvin said, and pointed his finger at you as he began to read from the second book. You saw green sparks fly around his finger, but when he finished the returning back to normal thing failed to happen. He tried again, and again, before dropping the book and sinking back into his chair with a groan.

“…Mark might actually kill us,” Jack said and the magician’s head hit the table.

“I should have stuck to card tricks.”

_“But you’re much better at real magic than that flim-flam sleight of hand!”_

Marvin muttered something dark into the surface of the table._  
_

“Marvin?” You called his name but the ego just groaned again. You looked up at Jack and Jameson, both of whom looked completely lost as to what to do now, and walked over to Marvin. It took several seconds to cross the distance of the table before you could reach out and pat the top of the magician’s head. Your arm sank halfway up to your elbow in his long green hair but he shifted slightly, showing that he at least felt it. “I know you can figure this out. You’re Marvin the Magnificent, right?”

“…That’s what it says on my underwear.”

“Could’ve gone without knowing that,” you said, and the ego chuckled.

_“Perhaps we could take a second look at the original spell?”_ Jameson suggested_. “Or spells. You said you had a way to undo one of them.”_

“Well, I had a way to undo what the spell was _supposed_ to do, in case the timing effect failed—”

Marvin looked up so quickly that his forehead knocked you off your feet and you had to cling to the top of his cat mask for support, only to have the table disappear from beneath your feet.

Marvin hissed and quickly caught you in his hand before you could fall. “Sorry about that, but I just realized, the hour effect, see?”

He put you down on the book and pointed at the first part of the spell, as if any of the words scrawled beneath your feet had meaning for you.

“Uh, what?” Jack asked.

“The spell, I was testing how it would respond to a kind of timer,” Marvin explained. “All we have to do is wait an hour from when I cast it, and it should wear off!”

“You’re sure?” you asked, wary of getting your hopes up this time.

“Yes, yes, it makes sense, the timing and who it’s supposed to affect are in the first parts of the spell; it’s just when I turned the page that I missed what it was supposed to actually _do_.” Marvin ran his finger down the page as he spoke and then flashed a smile at you. “I’m sure of it. All we have to do is wait an hour.”

You frowned, thinking about what Marvin said. “But why did it just affect me then?”

The magician shrugged. “It could be a side effect of mixing the two spells. It was supposed to affect one of you and then the other, but it’s not like there was anything to transfer in this case.”

Jameson pulled out his pocket watch and tapped it before saying, _“I told you an hour seemed like a long time!”_

Jack exhaled and it was only then you realized just how worried he had been. “But we can handle that, and no one needs to tell—”

He broke off as a tune started to play somewhere in the room. At the same time, you felt the vibrations running through the table and book beneath your feet and glanced back at your phone, normal-sized and lying where you left it by your seat.

Jack leaned over to look at it and said, “It’s Wilford.”

“Yeah, I better answer it,” you said. Last time you missed a call from him, he barged into the room you were in with his gun drawn, reciting lines from Taken. Not the best way to wake up at 3 in the morning.

Jack propped up the phone and you had to use both your hands to get the green answer button to respond and to turn on the speaker so he could hear you.

“Hey Wilford,” you said, and immediately had to clamp your hands over your ears when he responded in his usual loud, booming voice.

“Y/N! Where are you, you scamp?”

“I’m at the Septic egos’ house today, remember?” you said, taking a step back from the phone as you did so.

The distance didn’t help as Wilford’s voice boomed out again. “Well, get back over here! We’ve got things going on here, you know!”

“Uh, I’m kind of busy here, Wilford,” you answered. “If this is about the meeting—”

“Meeting?! We have a meeting today? You should have told me, I’ll be there in a second to pick you up!”

“_No!_ I mean, no, that’s okay, Wilford,” you said, trying really hard to ignore the other three right now. “Mark said he could handle the meeting by himself this time, remember? And you’ll be there to help him, right?”

“You know, it almost sounds like you don’t want me coming over there,” Wilford said, laughing even as his tone changed.

You looked up at Jack and the two egos, who silently tried to gesture and mouth answers all at once. Even Jameson was avoiding using his speech slides, as if afraid Wilford might “hear” him.

“That’s because…I’m working on a surprise for someone else, with the Septic egos,” you said. “And I _really _need to keep it a secret from the others. You understand, right?”

“_Oh,_ a secret,” Wilford said. “Say no more, Y/N, I can keep a secret better than anybody! Why, I can even keep a secret from myself if I want to, and don’t even get me started on keeping secrets from the audience.”

“…Okay? I mean, thank you for understanding, Wilford, I—”

“I’ll just be by to pick you up after the meeting’s over!”

Before you could respond, he hung up and the phone went back to its lock screen.

“…I really hope you’re right about that time thing, Marvin,” you said, trying hard not to imagine what Wilford might do if he found you this size.

_“I suppose we have nothing to do but wait,”_ Jameson said, but then a mischievous grin crossed his face and he scooped you up in hands. “_And use our remaining time to show the others!”_

Your protests were soon drowned out by Dr. Schneeplestein, Jackieboy Man, and Chase cooing over you as Jameson proudly showed you off.

“You all. Suck. So much,” you said when he finally put you down on the coffee table in the living room.

Your only consolation came roughly forty-five minutes later, when it turned out that Marvin was right about the spell only lasting an hour and you were back to normal size, if a little embarrassed to be sprawled out on the couch on top of Chase.

Well, maybe not your only consolation.

After all, it turned out that Marvin’s spell had worked even better than he thought, if not quite in the right way. Jameson crossed his arms as he dangled by his vest from Jackieboy Man’s thumb and forefinger, his speech slide a little faded as he said, _“An hour is way too long!”_

“He might be right,” Marvin said to you quietly as the two of you stood and watched the others at a distance. “Are you sure about an entire 24 hours?”

You bit your lip but nodded. “If you think we can get everything figured out in time.”

“We’ll work out every_ little_ problem,” Marvin said, and shrugged at the look you gave him. More serious this time, he added, “And we’ll all be there for you, the day after. Promise.”


	2. The Best Laid Plans

Mark felt a twitch start in his eyelid as he stared around the room. “What do you mean, no one actually uses the schedule?”

“Well, things come up!” Ed Edgar said from his seat roughly halfway down the crowded table. Google had pulled up a calendar on the large screens on either end of the conference room, but currently all of the egos were focused on Mark. “We ain’t got time for no schedules and calendars, we got things to do.”

“But…that’s the _reason_ for the _schedule_,” Mark said, putting as much emphasis as he could into every word.

“When have you ever stuck to a schedule?” Silver Shepherd shrugged, one of his overlarge gloves almost taking out Bim Trimmer’s glasses as he said, “Besides, Y/N always figures it out so everyone gets a turn in the studio sooner or later.”

“Something always comes up around here,” Dr. Iplier pointed out. “Bing’s missed half of his scheduled time because he forgot to charge the night before, Yan’s going to drop anything if it means more time with Senpai, and I’ve always got one patient or another to take care of. And let’s be honest, did anyone expect Wilford to keep to a schedule?”

Laughs came from all around the room at that and Mark gestured futilely at the stack of papers in front of him, then at the blue-shirted Google standing next to him. “Did you know about this?”

“Yes, this unit was aware,” Google said without looking up from the translucent screen in front of him, his eyes glowing as he tapped away.

“Then why did you let me waste all of that time yesterday?! I spent hours going through all of these requests and time sheets and trying to figure out who needs what, and now I find out no one actually cares?”

Google glanced at him briefly, expressionless as he said, “So that you can know the pain I go through, every single day.”

“Okay, that’s worrying for multiple reasons,” Mark said, making a mental note to have a talk with the android later. “But…but _still!_”

Dark leaned into view from his seat in the corner behind Mark to say, “I tried to tell you that you were wasting your time.”

“When do you ever not say that?” Mark asked, and then spun around in his chair to add, “Who even invited you to this meeting?”

“Wilford did,” Dark answered, giving a little wave to the ego standing at the opposite end of the table. The pink-mustached man grinned and winked as he returned the wave.

Mark sighed and asked, “Wilford, do I want to know why Dark’s here?”

“Everyone wants to get out of the room faster when Darkiboy’s around,” Wilford answered and the smile immediately disappeared from Dark’s face to be replaced by a scowl warning any of the others against repeating that name. “And I don’t know about the rest of you, but Ol’ Warfstache has places to be!”

“Wilford Warfstache has nothing on the calendar,” Google said. The android made a gesture with his finger and the calendar on the screens sped by briefly before stopping as he added, “Ever.”

“The best plans are the one you make up at the last moment,” Wilford answered with another wink. “And I told Y/N I’d pick them up after the meeting.”

“Where is Y/N?” Bim Trimmer asked. “We were going to talk about studio space, I clearly remember there was supposed to be a discussion on contestants—”

“Because apparently Y/N’s the only one around here who actually knows what’s going on,” Mark muttered, trying to ignore what sounded suspiciously like a laugh from Dark. “And the discussion is ‘stop killing people.’ That goes for all of you, no more bloodshed, no more mayhem—”

“Whoa now,” Wilford said, “Let’s not go overboard here. What do you mean, no more mayhem?”

“I mean, if Dr. Iplier has to perform an act against nature to get people up and moving around after another one of your segments again, you’re cut off. No more videos, no more Twitter AMAs, nothing. Got it?”

Judging by the outcry, Mark might as well have suggested that they cut off the WiFi. He sat back in his chair and let them yell for a minute, and Dark took the opportunity to pull over the now useless meeting notes and study them.

“Well, at least the budget wasn’t a complete waste of your time,” Dark said. “I’m almost mildly impressed.”

“Y/N and Google figured that out, actually,” Mark admitted.

“Amazing,” Dark said, flipping through the pages. “These are actual video proposals and draft scripts.”

“…Y/N talked them into it. And the egos use them to bounce off ideas.”

“I meant more that these fools actually know how to write, but that’s impressive as well,” Dark said. He looked up at Mark, both of them now completely ignoring the chaos going on in the rest of the conference room. “How much do you pay them again?”

Mark just groaned and rubbed at his eye, which was really and truly twitching now. And just ten minutes ago, he thought he had all of this figured out.

A couple of seats away, Eric asked cautiously, “D-do all of these meetings go like this?”

“Sometimes there’s shooting,” Bim answered, just a split second before a gunshot cracked the air.

Mark swore until his hearing returned and yelled, “Wilford! What the hell?!”

Wilford shrugged. “I told you, I’ve got places to _be_. And I promised Y/N I’d swing by the Brighton house as soon as we were done here.”

“They ditched us for the Septic boys?” Silver Shepherd asked, and a few grumbles went around the room.

“Now, now, it’s not like that,” Wilford said, waving his gun around in what he thought was a placating manner. “They just had a secret thing they were working on with them that was more important than this meeting.”

He took in the looks from the other egos and shrugged. “What? Like none of you have anything better to do?”

Mark paused at that and then said, “Oh, right, Seán’s birthday is coming up soon. They must be planning something for him.”

“The Septic egos are planning something?” Jim asked into his microphone as he looked directly into the camera the second Jim had pointed at his face. “Dark magics, perhaps? Could Y/N be being drawn into a deal with the devil or, perhaps, a monkey’s paw situation even as we speak?”

Wilford pointed his gun at the Jims. “Now what did I say? In this house, we use #spoilers!”

“Yes, sir!” The Jims sank back into their chairs and Wilford put his gun away as if nothing had just happened.

Mark felt the tension fall away from the other egos at that, even as Google checked the calendar and said, “Correct, Seán McLoughlin’s birthday is on February 7th. Would you like me to set a reminder?”

“I don’t need a reminder, I can remember my own friend’s birthday,” Mark scoffed.

“Would you like a reminder for the Host’s birthday?” Google asked.

The smile dropped off of Mark’s face and he struggled to hide his surprise as he glanced at the screen on the wall. There he could see Google’s cursor lingering over the 6th.

“I, uh…”

“The Host has a birthday?” Eric asked.

“Google is referring to the first day the Host made his appearance on the channel, under a different name,” the Host said. “The fans enjoy referring to our anniversaries as ‘birthdays’, but the day holds no special meaning for the Host.”

Mark exhaled softly but continued to look at the calendar. Maybe it would be a good idea to do something for the ego, and he definitely had to get something for Jack. What had he gotten him last year?

He…had gotten Jack something last year, right?

“Wh-when is Y/N’s birthday?” Eric asked, and stammered when everyone stared at him. “S-s-sorry, did, did I say something wrong?”

A silence fell over the room, as the egos turned to look at either Mark or at the screens where Google was scrolling through a year’s worth of dates, his brow furrowed, until the android declared, “I cannot find Y/N’s birthday in the calendar.”

“That’s, uh, because I never put it in,” Mark said weakly.

“You forgot their birthday?” Dark asked in the following silence. “You really are the worst father.”

“Mark is Y/N’s dad?!” Eric wiped his brow with his handkerchief and asked, “Uh, how old are you again?”

“No. _No_,” Mark said, first to Eric, then to Dark, and then added a third time just to be sure everyone in the room heard it, “NO. And we are _not_ bringing that joke back. Besides, you forgot it too!”

“I was locked away in another dimension for several months, what’s your excuse?” Dark asked.

“Well, they weren’t always here, and I don’t know if we’re supposed to count their birthday or the District Attorney’s birthday, it was never really clear, and a lot has happened over the last year!”

“So, what I’m hearing is that we missed two of Y/N’s birthdays,” Wilford said and Mark immediately shook his head.

“No, it does not work like that. We just…missed one.” He inhaled sharply and buried his face in his hands. “Why didn’t they say anything?!”

“Are you really surprised?” Dark muttered, his aura darkening as the ringing gradually began to increase.

“Youse guys celebrate when we show up, maybe youse can celebrate when they showed up,” Randal Voorhees (no relation) suggested in a bellowing voice, despite sitting only a few places away.

Mark and Dark glanced at each other, then at Google, but it was the Host who said, “February the 7th also happens to be the anniversary of when Y/N first ‘arrived,’ but the Host is uncertain that they would wish to celebrate that day in particular.”

Dark scowled as he remembered holding your broken body in the middle of the hallway, surrounded by blood and glass, while Mark thought of long hours by your bedside, hardly daring to believe you were free of the mirror at last.

“That’s…a good point,” Mark admitted.

“If anything, it did set the tone for the past year,” Dark said.

Mark nodded. “Between the recovering, almost dying again, _you_, the broken mirror…”

“Not to mention they showed up just in time for that whole mask situation,” Dr. Iplier threw in, and a shudder went around the room, only missing the two youngest egos.

“Hold it, I thought youse guys liked those Septic guys?” Randal asked.

“Not those masks, it was—” Dr. Iplier shook his head and none of the other egos made a move to explain. “The important point is, that _thing _is gone now.”

“Markiplier and Darkiplier share a look, both thinking the same thing at the doctor’s words, before they turn and glare at the Host as if he is supposed to see them or like anyone else is listening. Speaking over the Host’s narration, Ed Edgar says—”

“Come on now, there’s got to be something good that came out of the last year!”

“Y/N is good,” the King of the Squirrels piped up from his corner, where he sat feeding one of his quieter squirrels.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but that ain’t exactly what I meant…”

“Well, by my count we’ve missed three birthdays, and that means we have to do something special!” Wilford pounded the table for emphasis, a glint in his eye. “And I have an idea.”

After the meeting, Mark slumped forward onto the table and groaned.

“Well, you can’t say the meeting wasn’t productive,” Dark said as he slid into the vacated chair next to him.

“This is such a bad idea.”

“You could say no,” Dark suggested, but he was grinning when Mark looked up to glare at him.

Too tired to deal with him, Mark just groaned again and wondered aloud, “I wonder if they make ‘World’s Worst Dad’ mugs?”

“You say as if I don’t already have one on order for you.”

Mark was silent for so long that Dark was almost surprised when he spoke again, serious this time. “They’ve been here almost an entire year now.”

“One year, and already your egos like and respect them more than either of us.”

“Like that was ever a high bar.” Mark sat up and looked at Dark. “What’s the real reason you came to this meeting?”

“Wilford asked, and I had nothing better to do.”

Mark narrowed his eyes. “And you were quick to offer to help with his plan.”

“Just call Jack and make sure he and his merry band of idiots are in,” Dark said. Without waiting for an answer, he stood and walked out of the room.

“Yeah, this is such a bad idea,” Mark declared to the empty room. But it wasn’t the worst one he’d ever heard, he added silently as he pulled out his phone and looked up Jack’s number.

* * *

“Hello?”

You called out as you walked into the kitchen, but no one answered. You frowned at the empty room and looked out the back door, but there was no sign of anyone in the yard, either.

What was going on? You had slept late after another long night, but that shouldn’t have mattered. No matter what time of day it was, there was always _someone_ around the Iplier house. But there was no one in the living room, no doctor in the infirmary, no Host in his study. You even knocked on Dark’s office door, unsure if you were more concerned or relieved when there was no response inside.

You stopped outside of the conference room, dark and empty behind its glass walls, and pulled out your cellphone. Just as you opened your contacts to decide who to call, you heard the soft tread of feet on the stairs behind you.

You turned around, ready to laugh about how concerned you were just a second ago, but there was no one there.

“Is someone there?” you asked and immediately regretted the question. You started to walk toward the stairs when another creak came from behind you, the only warning you had before a hand dropped down on your shoulder.

“Hey—ow!”

You spun around and the ego behind you looked up, his face partially obscured by a white cat mask but still visibly in pain.

“Marvin? What are you doing here?”

“Hurting,” Marvin said, although he pressed a hand to his side where you elbowed him and straightened up. “You’re really not a morning person, are you?”

“Not when someone sneaks up on me.”

“I wasn’t…” Marvin shrugged. “Okay, maybe a little. But I want to go ahead and point out that this was not my idea.”

“Wait, what do you—”

The magician grabbed your hand as green sparks of magic spiraled up from around the floor to surround both of you. It faded just as quickly as it appeared, leaving you no time to react before the Iplier house disappeared to be replaced by a bright sunlit drive that curved away from you, its end hidden by trees.

“Well, look who finally showed up!”

You’d recognize that loud, booming voice anywhere, and turned in time to see Wilford come bounding down the front steps of a massive, unfamiliar house before he scooped you up into a hug.

“Now that both gangs are all here, we can finally get this beach episode started!”

Your question was muffled, but you could hear Mark sigh and say, “I don’t know, he just keeps saying that. Wilf, let them go before you break something!”

Wilford finally released you from the crushing embrace and you could now see Mark and Jack had joined you in the driveway, leaving the front door of the house open behind them. Through it, you could hear multiple voices yelling back and forth as a flurry of activity happened inside.

“We rented it,” Mark explained before you could ask. “Just for the next couple of days, to celebrate.”

“I had no idea,” you said, trying to keep the accusation out of your voice as you added, “Happy early birthday, Jack!”

“Thanks,” Jack said, but he grinned at Mark as if sharing a joke. “You have to check this place out, it’s crazy, but the real fun is in the backyard.”

As if that were an invitation, Wilford grabbed your arm and started to run, leaving you no choice but to try and keep up as he pulled you around the house, along a side path overhung by leaning trees. You barely had time to register the dirt becoming sand beneath your feet or the noise of crashing waves before you were out in the open again and looking down a gently sloping hill that led directly to the beach below.

“Now that’s what I call a view,” Wilford said, taking a deep breath of the salty air while the other three caught up with you.

Jack laughed at the sight of a couple of the egos already playing in the sand and ran down to join them in making a sandcastle, but Mark seemed to be waiting for something.

“You said we’re going to be here for a few days?” you asked.

Mark smiled, but his eyes were watching you carefully, trying to gauge your reaction. “Yeah, and don’t worry, we packed a bag for you. Sorry about the last-minute notice, we just, uh, didn’t want…Kinkiplier to find out about the trip, you know?”

“Kinkiplier,” you said. “The _totally_ real ego, and not just something you guys made up to explain weird things around the house that I really wish I hadn’t seen.”

“…Yes,” Mark said.

Behind you, Wilford gave him an encouraging thumbs-up and a wink.

“So, uh, what do you think?” Mark asked.

Behind him, Marvin gave you a shrug, palms up.

“I think it’s pretty awesome you’re doing all of this for Jack,” you answered, and Mark seemed to relax when he saw your smile. “Even if you did just come up with at the last minute.”

Mark feigned hurt at that while Wilford corrected you on just whose _fantastic _idea this was, and together you all walked down to join the others on the sand. Later, when the others were distracted by Wilford’s determined efforts to drag Mark out into the ocean, Marvin pulled you aside.

“Sorry about this,” he said. “I know it’s not exactly what we had planned, but we weren’t warned about this either. I’d understand if you don’t want to do this anymore.”

You looked past him and saw the other Septic egos clearly listening in, even though they were making a show of rebuilding their sandcastle after the great reckoning that was Bing tripping over a shell and face planting into it.

“I’m definitely going to need a lot of help to pull it off now,” you said slowly. “If you guys are still okay with it…”

You left the question hanging in the air, and more than one of the egos gave you an affronted look at the suggestion.

_“Why, of course we’ll help!”_ Jameson speech slide read as it passed in front of your eyes.

“What, you think we’re just going to quit on you?” Jackieboy asked. “That’s not how we do things around here.”

“Ve are Jack’s egos,” Dr. Schneeplestein said, as if that explained everything. “Ve always try, even if ve have no idea what we’re doing.”

“Which is a lot of the time,” Chase admitted as he carefully topped one of the towers with a seagull feather for a flag. He grinned at it and then looked up at you. “What about you?”

You looked at them and then around, taking in the water that glittered and shined in the sunlight, the way it was hard to tell where the ocean ended and the sky started on the horizon, and the white sand stretching away to either side for miles. You didn’t know how Mark found this place, but it was absolutely beautiful. Then you looked back at the house, where you knew the rest of the egos not out here were still inside, unpacking or doing their own thing for now. And you thought about what day tomorrow would be.

“I don’t know how this is going to go,” you admitted to the Septic egos. “But I’m still going to try.”


	3. One Day, Many Surprises

“Come on, you must want to do something for your birthday.”

“The Host is fine with a quiet day to himself. As the Host has told Markiplier multiple times, his anniversary is just another day for him.”

Mark bit back a sigh as he stared down at the ego, who sat on the edge of his bed, hands folded, head tilted down as if just patiently waiting to be left alone.

“Fine, but if there’s something you want to do or somewhere you want to go, just speak up. Tomorrow’s your birthday, you’re allowed to be a little selfish.”

The Host did not respond. He knew that Mark meant well, but the sentiment was spoiled when he could sense the guilt running through the other man. Remembering dates just wasn’t something Mark was good at.

Mark looked around and took in the other bed, half of it covered in mechanical parts and cables. “You’re sure you’re okay with sharing a room with all of the androids?”

“The Host is only sharing a room with the Googles, and they do not need to charge all at the same time. Bingiplier is using the outlet in Chase Brody and Marvin the Magnificent’s bedroom as needed. He has found that they are less likely to unplug him during a recharge than some of the other egos. This situation is more preferable to the Host than sharing with the alternative, as Ed Edgar tends to snore in his sleep.”

Mark decided not to push it. It felt like a miracle that they’d been able to find a house big enough to fit all of them for a couple of nights. Well, “miracle” might not be the right word, considering who had found it.

When Dark showed the place to him a couple of days ago, the first thing Mark had commented on was the number of bedrooms.

“It was the largest one I could find that afforded some privacy,” Dark had said, misinterpreting his comment. “Most of us will have to double up, but it should do.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask what you had to do to rent this place,” Mark said as they finished their walk through of the house.

Dark rolled his eyes and said, “Oh, I just took care of the previous occupants in a way to make sure there would be no police report. In an unrelated note, no one is to go into the attic while we are here.”

He saw Mark’s expression and added, “That was a joke. This is an old house, I came across it decades ago. It just took the right calls to have it ready in time for us.”

Just as Mark started to relax, Dark added as an afterthought, “But seriously, go into the attic and I will flail you alive.”

The Host shifted, bringing Mark back to the present, and said, “The Host will keep Mark’s offer in mind.”

Mark nodded, figuring that this was the most he could hope for, and walked out of the room. The Host waited until the door closed before he repeated Mark’s words aloud, “’A little selfish’…”

Easier said than done.

He sighed. He wanted, more than anything, to be surprised tomorrow instead of knowing exactly how the day would go. The egos, not meaning anything by it, might remember to say something over breakfast, but as the morning went on, they would forget about him. Mark would go out of his way to get a gift for the Host, which would be appreciated but not necessary. If he were truly fortunate, he might have a few hours alone in the house while the others went outside to enjoy the beach and fresh air, time that he could spend reading or otherwise occupied until they returned and he went back to quietly narrating in the corner, waiting for the day to finally end.

A day like any other for him, just in a different location.

* * *

His first surprise came in the form of a knock on the bedroom door, so early in the morning that his narration told him it was still dark out. He startled but made no move to open it as he knew one of the Googles would get there first. He only turned at the sound of your voice and said, “Y/N is awake early this morning. Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing like that,” you answered as the red-shirted Google stepped aside. The Host could just barely sense your relief at the sound of his voice in the midst of the blur of conflicting mental images that made up you in his narration, as hard to read as ever. “I know you’re always up early, and I wanted to see if you’d like to watch the sun rise together.”

“The Host would enjoy that,” he said as he stood and crossed the room, narrating quietly to himself as he stepped over charging cables and around the blue-shirted Google sitting up against one of the walls, body unusually relaxed and at ease while he charged. “The Host knows of a place, if Y/N is up for a short walk.”

“Sure,” you said, and then after a second of hesitation looked at the Google at the door. “Uh, sorry, I should have asked, do any of you…?”

“We would prefer to avoid the beach,” the Google answered flatly.

Was that another flash of relief from you? The Host wasn’t sure, but you and the Googles did have a less than stellar history together. “While Googliplier is water-resistant to a certain point when properly prepared, the salt water is especially corrosive to their inner workings.”

“And don’t even get me started on the sand,” Google muttered. “Bing is going to be venting that stuff out of his systems for weeks.”

Google closed the door behind the Host, and together the two of you walked down the halls, both trying to be quiet to avoid waking any of the others.

“I kind of feel guilty having a room all to myself when everyone else has to share,” you admitted when you made it downstairs and pulled open the sliding door that led out on to the back porch.

“Y/N was also given the smallest room and the only one with a single bed, so the Host believes it worked out for the best.”

Outside, the air was warm and still, a spattering of stars still up in the sky but already fading with the growing light. The Host took in a deep breath of the salty breeze blowing in from the west and realized that he hadn’t been outside since he first arrived yesterday.

“Do you not like the beach?”

The Host also realized that he had been narrating out loud again.

“The Host had other things on his mind at the time,” the Host said, well aware that he was avoiding the question. He turned and pointed as he said, “The place the Host is referring to is just down that way.”

He led the way down the stairs and turned left before reaching the beach proper to follow a trail you had missed in the daylight. It took the two of you away from the house until it was hidden by the rise of the land, and then up a sandy hill. The Host struggled here, his feet sliding on the quickly shifting sand, until you offered your hand. Together, you half-walked, half-pulled each other up to the top of the broad hilltop, where the Host had to stop to catch his breath before he could speak again.

“From here, Y/N should be able to see the sun just as it rises over those hills.” He pointed and added, “The Host thanks Y/N for thinking of them this morning. He does not get out as often as he should.”

“Well, today is your anniversary,” you said, and he could hear the smile in your voice. “And I wanted to do something special for you.”

“The Host…” The Host paused, one of the few times he was uncertain of what to say, and you continued as if afraid to stop, as if you had lost track somewhere of what you had planned to say next.

“That’s why I—Marvin, he gave me this—”

And you pressed something into his hand, a piece of fabric that seemed to buzz with energy when it touched both his hand and yours for just a brief moment, followed by a pressure around his eyes.

You stopped to take a breath and said, “I meant it when I said I wanted to watch the sun rise _with_ you, Host.”

Slowly, as if in a daze, the Host reached up and began to unwind the stained bandages, his fingers fumbling because he hardly dared to narrate his own actions. Before they were fully off you were speaking again, quickly, nervously.

“I’m sorry, I wanted it to be a surprise, but I know I should have asked first, and it will only last for 24 hours—”

The Host blinked, aware of the growing light as for the first time in years his eyes attempted to focus on his blurry but growing clearer by the second surroundings, aware of the scars that stung in the fresh air but no longer bled, aware that the brown in his damaged eyes glowed gold with the magic, however temporary it may be.

Aware of the brief surprise that crossed your face before he pulled you into a hug.

“I’m sorry it’s only for a day,” you said into his shoulder and it was all the Host could do not to laugh.

“The Host thinks Y/N should stop apologizing long enough for the Host to thank them,” he said, blinking away tears, his first real tears in he didn’t know how long. He did not notice the handkerchief in your hand, folded so that it resembled a blindfold, or how you ran your thumb over it as if feeling the magic that had affected you both before tucking it into your pocket.

Together, you sat down on top of the hill and watched the sun rise. The Host’s narration seemed to fail him as he took in the colors spreading across the land, the way the light shifted and changed as the sun rose, as it hit the face of the friend beside him that he was seeing for the first time. A face to go with the you he thought he knew, but could still so easily surprise him.

* * *

The Host’s second surprise came later that morning, when you and he finally made your way back down to the house. There, you found Jack, Mark, and most of their egos eating breakfast. The dining room table was almost full, but many of the egos were happy to sprawl out and eat just about anywhere.

A few of them glanced up when the two of you entered, but it was Dr. Iplier who stopped mid sentence and stared as you found seats at the table.

“Host…Your eyes…”

The Host was used to being less ignored and more treated as background noise by the other egos, so to suddenly have all eyes on him, to have everyone actually listening as he explained that you and the magician had, however temporarily, restored his sight, was almost as overwhelming as when they all began to speak at once, all full of ideas on how the Host could spend his day.

The Host glanced at Mark, who gave him an encouraging nod, and cleared his throat before he said, “The Host—_I_ would like to spend some time on the beach after breakfast.”

He spent most of that breakfast with his narration silent, his focus on studying the people around him. Some of the egos were so new that they had never even heard of the Author; others he now had to readjust his mental image of to match the small subtle ways they had changed over the years. As he looked around, he couldn’t help but notice the two people very conspicuously missing.

At some point it occurred to Bim that the Host probably didn’t have anything comfortable to wear out on the beach, and as soon as the Host finished eating, he was being dragged upstairs by his fellow egos for a change of clothes.

“I should—” you started to stand up as you spoke, but stopped when Jack spoke at the same time.

“I thought there wasn’t a spell to return the Host’s vision.”

He was looking at Marvin as he spoke, who sank a little in his chair as he answered, “Well, we were hoping to find something permanent, remember?”

“And Marvin just found this spell not long ago,” you added. Mark and Dr. Iplier were also looking suspicious, so you said, “It was my idea not to tell you guys, so that it could be a surprise. The Host doesn’t ‘read’ the Septic egos as often as the others, so he wasn’t as likely to notice if they were the only ones who knew.”

“It just sounds awfully convenient,” Mark said.

You didn’t look at any of the Septic egos, for fear that one of them would give it away as you answered, “It’s only for one day, Mark. Let him enjoy it.”

“I’m not trying to…” Mark paused and looked to Jack for help.

But it was Dark, standing in the doorway listening, who responded first. “The problem is that there is _always_ a price to pay for something like this. You should know that better than anyone, Y/N.”

You were temporarily distracted by the sharp sound of Jack inhaling, and saw his eyes widen as it clicked. He started to speak but it became a yelp as a “careless” gesture from Dr. Schneeplestein knocked his coffee off the table and straight into his lap.

“Ooo, that’s not good,” Jackieboy Man said, pulling his creator up to his feet where you could all see the dark stain spreading. “Quick, we should all go into the kitchen and help you take care of that right now.”

“It’s fine_, Mark_,” you said once Jack had been ushered into the kitchen by all of his egos in the most suspicious exit ever. You might have considered telling Mark now that Jack had already figured it out, but after what Dark just said you weren’t about to explain yourself in front of him. Besides, you told yourself, Mark would just worry, and Dark would only take advantage of the situation.

“We’ve gone over it, and we can handle it. Just trust me on this, okay?”

Dark’s eyes flashed angrily a minute later, after you had left the room. “You’re just going to leave it at that? You _know_ they’re hiding something!”

“Of course they are,” Mark said. “I’m not an idiot, but neither is Y/N. They know what they’re doing. I just…”

He let the thought trail away without finishing it, partially because he didn’t want to admit in front of Dark that he wished you would just be more willing to ask for help when you needed it, but also because only a minute or two later he heard you calling down the stairs before you returned to the dining room.

“Mark,” you said with the tone of someone trying very hard either not to laugh or not to yell. “Yesterday, when you said ‘we packed a bag for you’, who exactly packed my stuff?”

“Uh…” Mark looked at Dark, who shrugged. “What, is it not in your room?”

“Oh, it’s there. I just want to know who picked out my swimsuit.”

“You have a swimsuit?”

“No, I don’t,” you said, gesturing down to the shorts and shirt you now wore. “And if I did, it wouldn’t just be a couple of strings and a hope. So where did that _thing_ in my bag come from?”

Mark opened his mouth, considered, and said, “That’s a fantastic question. Dark?”

Dark also took some time to consider the common knowledge among all of the Iplier egos, which was that if no one was going to confess to something, there was really only one obvious answer.

“…Kinkiplier.”

The Host’s third surprise for the day was just how loud you could yell when you really wanted to, but that came as a shock to all of the other egos who were also on their way down the stairs, alongside how they could, without a single word among them, agree to get out of the house with a silence that would have shocked the three in the dining room if they’d bothered to notice.

His next surprise was more subtle, one that came to him at some point as he stood waist deep in the water, bracing himself for the next wave to hit while nearby Jameson, Chase, Silver Shepherd, and Yandereplier were hitting a large inflatable beach ball around and trying to keep it from touching the water. It was that, in all of the ways he saw today going, he hadn’t imagined himself out here with the others. It wasn’t only because, without his sight, the unsteady sand was difficult to navigate and he didn’t dare to go into the water for fear of going out too far or being knocked down by a wave he couldn’t sense coming in time.

He knew yesterday that if he simply asked, you or Mark or one of the other egos would have been willing to lend a hand or keep an eye out for him. It’s that the thought never crossed his mind to actually do it, to just spend time with the others and enjoy the moment.

The Host reached out with one hand and bapped the ball as it strayed his way, sending it over Chase’s head and into Yan’s waiting palm, and before long he found himself drawn into the silly, pointless game that would inevitably lead to everyone trying to splash each other until a wave caught the Host off guard and sent him tumbling over into the water. He sat up, coughing, and Silver barely had time to laugh before another wave knocked him over with the power of karma.

By the time he returned to shore, the Host was absolutely soaked, water dripping from his clothes and hair and sand sticking in unfortunate places, and when you looked up from helping the doctors to bury Jack in the sand you shared his grin.

Later, as he showered to wash away the salt and sand, the Host gave some thought to how he wanted to spend the rest of his day.

_It was okay to be a little selfish_, Mark had said.

He was so focused on that thought that he forgot to narrate on his way out of the bathroom and so ran into yet another surprise for the day:

Wilford Warfstache, standing outside the door to his room with a wrapped gift in one hand and his other raised as if to knock, a gesture so foreign to the man that he seemed to have stalled in the process.

Except, even as the Host watched, Wilford lowered his hand and rubbed his eyes.

“Wilford?”

Wilford spun around and broke into a smile, but the Host could see his dark brown eyes were a little too bright as he said, “There you are! What are you doing, hiding on such a special day?!”

The Host started to answer but stopped himself. He had difficulty sensing Wilford on a normal day, same as you, but he could feel the hazy mix of a hundred different emotions and thoughts swarming around the man, some flitting by too fast to read, others lingering just long enough to leave an impression before being drowned out by another. At first it felt random, but then he realized that the strongest ones were repeating, each lasting a different length of time but always giving way to the next.

Fear.

Guilt.

Shame.

Hope.

And back around again.

“The Host missed Wilford at breakfast this morning, and outside with the others.”

“Well, turns out wrapping is harder than it looks!” Wilford said. “The paper, the tape, the scissors, the knife, and then you need even more paper, but, well, I think the results speak for themselves.”

He handed the Host the present, a box wrapped in at least ten different styles of paper, somehow all clashing with each other and with the bright pink bow stuck on top. The Host took the gift gently, concerned both because it looked like it could fall apart at any second and because with Wilford there could be literally anything inside the box.

“Well, open it, open it,” Wilford said, and when the Host started to pull off the paper added, “Come on now, we’re not going to save the paper! Tear it off!”

The Host ripped away the paper to find a box significantly smaller than the original present. It was a pair of over the ear headphones, professional, high-end quality. Much nicer than anything the Host would have picked out for himself.

“Your old pair looked like they could fall apart if someone were to maybe pick them up and try them on just for fun one night, really not sturdy at all,” Wilford said. “Who needs those things?”

“Thank you, Wilford,” the Host said. “The Host…honestly didn’t expect you to remember his birthday.”

“It’s your birthday?!” Wilford threw an arm around the ego’s shoulders. “We should go out on the town, really make a night of it, if you know what I mean.”

“The Host…appreciates Wilford’s enthusiasm,” he said, struggling to breathe under Wilford’s grip until he managed to slip free. “But the Host already has plans for tonight.”

He hesitated and added, “But the Host is open to doing something with Wilford another night. Within reason.”

“Ah, always a catch,” Wilford said, but he grinned at that. He turned to walk away and stopped to look back at the Host. “You look different today…Did you do something with your hair?”

The Host blinked at Wilford and said, “Perhaps Wilford means the Host’s eyes?”

“…Nah, that’s not it. Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out.”

Wilford walked away, humming to himself, and the Host chuckled to himself as he looked down at the boxed headphones.

Later that afternoon, after some time with the other egos, the Host found you in your room, going through your bag in case there were any more surprises in there. “The Host…has a request. He—I was hoping to go into town, if Y/N would like to join me. There is a theater not far from here, and…”

And the Host enjoyed the idea of watching a movie, really watching it and not relying on an audio description device that clashed with the narration constantly running through his mind out of reflex in an unfamiliar place. And, when you were more than happy to go with him, he enjoyed being able to walk without straining to read ahead, without accidentally reading the lines of the people who passed on the sidewalk, without the stares directed at the bandages around his eyes.

Just being able to spend time with you, outside of the house, without worrying or his attention spread in a hundred different directions at once.

After the movie, and wandering up and down the streets and in and out of the stores for fun if not to buy anything, the Host had one last place he wanted to go before heading back. To your surprise, the destination turned out to be a coffee shop just a few streets away from the house.

“Isn’t it a little late for coffee?” you asked as you waited in line with him.

The Host cleared his throat. Even though he didn’t currently need his narration to “see”, it was still difficult to break the habit of using third person all the time. “I don’t want to go to sleep, not tonight. I want to enjoy Y/N’s gift for as long as possible.”

“Two coffees,” you said when you reached the counter, and when the Host raised his eyebrows you smiled and said, “Challenge accepted. If you’re staying up all night, then so am I.”

The Host laughed at that and you teased each other as you took your coffees to the side counter where the creams and sugars were located.

“Oh,” you said when you noticed the container for those cardboard cup sleeves was empty. “Hang on, I’ll go see if they have any at the register.”

The Host held the too warm cup in between his hands, enjoying the rich steam drifting up as he watched you walk over to the counter and wait for the barista to finish with her current customer. His smile disappeared when he noticed two men across the shop watching you as well, especially when one whispered something to the other and started to approach you.

You could take care of yourself, he knew that, and he also knew that it was really none of his business. Knowing that didn’t stop him from being any less nosy or protective as he whispered into his coffee, “The Host looks at the man approaching Y/N and sees his intentions and what kind of person he is.”

Barely a second later he practically snarled the words, “Oh, _absolutely not_, the man stops and turns around to leave, taking his friend with him until the Host has time to _properly_ deal with both of them.”

He continued to mutter darkly into his cup until he saw you turn around, two coffee cup sleeves in hand, at which point he stopped and smiled.

“Everything okay?” you asked and the Host realized he might not have as great a poker face as he originally thought.

“The…_I_ just got an idea for my radio show,” he said. “Just making sure I don’t forget the characters I have in mind.”

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard your show,” you admitted as you walked out together into the warm evening air. “What’s it about?”

“That’s okay, it’s not for everyone. Generally, it’s just about whatever I feel like talking about in that moment. Sometimes the Host just narrates about particular people or events. But I do enjoy telling a story of my own creation every now and then,” the Host admitted. “Right now, I’m starting to think it’s time the Host tried his hand at horror again.”

As you neared the house, the Host considered Mark’s words again and wondered just how selfish he could be. He took a breath and asked, “How does Y/N feel about watching the stars?”

A few hours later, he found himself back on the hill he started out the day on, but now you two had blankets to sit on and cover up with, and thermoses of coffee and hot chocolate supplied by Chef Iplier tucked close to keep you warm as the Host pointed out the different stars and constellations overhead. He knew a story for every one of them and how to lead those stories into yet another and another, even if he had to make most of them up himself, but eventually he trailed off and just laid there on his back, staring up at the stars.

“Host?” you asked, glancing over.

“The Host was just thinking that he hasn’t had a day like this in…a long time.”

“Then we’ll have to do it again sometime.”

“But Y/N said the spell only last 24 hours.”

You sat up and looked over at him. “Yeah, but we can still do stuff like this, right? You know, just get out and spend time together.”

_If there’s something you want to do or somewhere you want to go, just speak up,_ Mark had said. Easier said than done, but…

“…Yeah, I’d like that.”

You tried, you really did, but the Host could only smile when he noticed that you had finally dozed off and take in the silence all around, broken only by the distant crash of waves hitting the shore. At least, until the stars began to fade.

“Y/N,” the Host said gently. “The sun is going to rise soon.”

“’M not asleep,” you muttered, rubbing at your eyes as you sat up.

Together on top of the hill, you watched the sun rise and the gold fade from the Host’s eyes, until he sighed and said, “Thank you, Y/N.”

You reached out and gripped his hand. “Happy Birthday, Host.”

Tired but happy, the Host stood and made his way down the hill to the house, where Dr. Iplier was no doubt waiting with fresh bandages, assured that you would go back in your own time. You just wanted to stay out here a little longer, you told him.

It was on top of the hill where Marvin and Dr. Schneeplestein found you just a few minutes later. It took both of them to not only gather up the blankets and thermoses but also to help you up onto your feet, and you had to lean heavily on Marvin all the way down the hill.

Dark was right. The spell did require a price, exactly equal and opposite of what it gave. But, as you told Marvin while Dr. Schneeplestein clucked and checked your eyes, you knew it was worth it. Every single minute.


	4. "Just Like My Japanese Animes!"

The King of the Squirrels moved cautiously so as not to make a sound on the ancient floorboards as he threaded his way through the path between stacks of boxes on either side. His nose twitched at the musty smell of dust shot through with the scent of fresh dirt that filled the attic, but he held the sneeze in when he spotted the small creature sitting on the floor, tail twitching as it checked out one of the molding cardboard boxes.

The squirrel’s ears moved and it paused to look around, but in one swift movement the King dove forward and caught him before he could get away again.

“Got you!” he crowed.

A growl came from his left and both the King and the squirrel squeaked in unison when Dark stepped out of the shadows of his own aura to glare down at them.

“What do you think you’re doing up here?”

The King pointed at the squirrel just as it squirmed out of his hand and ran up his shoulder to hide under his cloak. “Someone got a little lost in the new house, but it won’t happen again—"

“I warned all of you to stay out of the attic, I put a sign on the door,” Dark said, his aura spreading until the King could barely see the junk to either side.

“Monkey Joe Jr. can’t read. He’s just a squirrel.”

** _“Can you?”_ **

“Something could have happened to him,” the King said softly, his head tucked into his scrunched-up shoulders as if trying to make himself appear smaller. “And he gets scared when he’s alone.”

Dark’s aura was all around them now. It was difficult to tell whether the creaking sounds to either side came from the attic or from something else in that surreal darkness, but it was the only sound for several seconds before Dark sighed and allowed the darkness to fade and retreat back into the bare outline that usually surrounded him.

“Then do not let it happen again.”

The King breathed out and straightened, one hand on the trembling lump under the cloak near the back of his neck. In the retreat of the aura, he could now see something behind Dark that had been hidden before.

“You’re growing something up here?” he asked, tilting his head to get a better look at the large planter against the far wall, where it received the most sunlight from the windows in the roof and one side of the attic’s sloping walls.

Dark’s aura started to spread again, this time protectively as he said, “Forget you saw that and get out of here before I—”

“It needs more water.”

Dark’s aura stopped as he stared at the ego. “What?”

The King of the Squirrels brushed by him and stuck one finger in the dirt beneath the plant before promptly sticking it in his mouth and savoring it for a moment. “Yeah, more water. And this dirt’s not big or fresh enough, that’s why there’s only one flower.”

Dark slapped the King’s reaching hand away before he could touch the single rose growing on the plant and said, “How do you know that?”

The King of the Squirrels shrugged. “I spend a lot of time outside, and I notice things.”

Dark glanced briefly at the ego before turning his attention to the rose. It had finally started to bloom, but he had to admit he had hoped for more than one after all this effort.

“I know a place back home where it would do a lot better,” the King offered.

“I don’t want it near the house.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I was thinking about the cabin out in the woods. Do you know it?”

“I’m…aware of it.” Dark studied the ego and said, “You’re being surprisingly useful this morning, King.”

“You’re welcome,” the King said, giving him a brief smile. He looked back at the rose and said, “Those don’t last long.”

“It doesn’t need to.”

“But I can show you the place for the plant when we get back,” the King said. He rubbed at the lump of the squirrel still hiding out of sight. “When are we going home?”

“Tomorrow evening,” Dark answered and the King sighed. This was probably the longest the ego had been away from the house and its surrounding woods since he was created. “You are not to tell anyone about what you’ve seen up here. Is that understood?”

The King nodded and, taking the hint this time, turned to leave the attic. He stopped on his way and told Dark, “You know, all of this reminds me of something. The scary mean guy hiding away from everyone else, the rose hidden away in the attic, it’s all like my favorite anime—"

Softly, to himself, Dark said, _“Please don’t say it.”_

“—Beauty and the Beast.”

Dark closed his eyes and exhaled in a long, low groan that could not begin to express the pain he felt in the center of his being at those words. “Just…just leave. **_Please._**”

The King of the Squirrels fled back downstairs and to the nest he had created in a corner of Eric and Chef Iplier’s room to wait until the others were ready to wake. Eventually, Dark also left the attic, careful to make sure that the door was locked behind him and the sign warning the others to stay out was still in place. It wouldn’t do anything to stop Wilford, which is why he was the only other person who knew what Dark had brought with him to their beach house.

He paused when he noticed one of the bedroom doors was still open and approached it cautiously, but the bed inside was empty and hadn’t been slept in. After a quick and infuriating conversation with one of the Googles wandering the halls, he made his way downstairs to the kitchen and stopped short in the doorway.

By the time Chase, Jackieboy Man, and Jameson noticed him, Dark had recovered from his surprise and went to the sink to wash the dirt off his hands as if nothing had happened.

“You three are up early,” he remarked as he dried his hands on the nearby towel. The sun had risen not long ago, judging by the light outside the kitchen windows. “I’m assuming that’s more to do with the time difference than any of you actually being early risers.”

“We have a lot to get ready,” Jackieboy Man responded as he continued to fill in one of the letters of the word “Happy Birthday Jack” printed across a large banner with one of the markers piled up on the kitchen table. His tone was unusually cold and flat as if he begrudged every word he wasted on the man, but he added, “What has you up so early? Or do you not sleep?”

Dark ignored the question and asked, “Have any of you seen Y/N? They never went back to their room last night.”

All three looked at him at that, Jameson paused halfway through struggling to get the tape off of his hand and onto the half-wrapped present in front of him, Chase absentmindedly letting the glitter pour out all over the table as he just said, “_Dude_. Seriously?”

Dark’s aura flared sharply. “Their door was—That doesn’t matter, Google said he saw them go outside with the Host last night, but…”

But he refused to tell Dark any more than that, and was very lucky that Dark apparently had more than his usual store of patience this morning.

_“That Host fellow said they would be along when he came back in a few minutes ago,”_ Jameson replied. He taped one side of the paper down and spun his gift around to start taping the other side before he noticed the look his brothers gave him. _“What?”_

“They’re still out there?” Dark asked, but Jackieboy Man leapt to his feet and blocked him before he could reach the back door. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What do you think _you’re_ doing?” Jackieboy asked. He was roughly the same height as Dark, but he puffed out his chest to appear bigger as his masked eyes locked with Dark’s. “Can’t you just leave them alone for once?”

“But if they’re alone out there—”

“Nah, Marvin and Schneeps went out to check on them,” Chase responded. He stood as well, but his hand went to the superhero’s shoulder as he said, “Look, they’ll be back any minute. Do you really want them to walk in on you two puffing up at each other?”

“I am not—” Dark started, but then became aware of the sharp ringing coming from his aura. He took a deep breath and it subsided. “You’re right, this is childish. If you’ll excuse me.”

Jackieboy muttered something under his breath, but Dark chose to ignore it and walk away. A few minutes later, he heard the sound of the back door open and the doctor’s loud greeting before he began to describe to you what all they had planned for Jack’s big day.

He retreated to a corner of the main area with a book in hand, as if he could actually get any reading done with the noise that soon followed as the Iplier egos made their way downstairs, joined in turn by Mark and Jack. He could hear the rumble of conversation over breakfast, but he ignored most of it beyond noting when Dr. Iplier said that the Host would be resting in his room all day, with apologies to Jack for not joining in the celebration today. That, and when Mark remarked on how you weren’t eating much, you responded with a jaw-cracking yawn before admitting you weren’t hungry. Clearly, the Host wasn’t the only one in need of some sleep.

Dark sank further into his chair when the others began to drift into the room, but they did little more than glance his way as they flopped into chairs or onto the couch while discussing the best flavors of cake with all the seriousness and gravity of a Discord chat. When the doorbell rang, he glanced up briefly at the sound of Mark shouting he would get it as he pushed his way past the egos and paused, watching as you walked into the room last with Jackieboy Man, the superhero’s arm thrown around your shoulder as he spoke.

Dark briefly had time to register the voices at the front door or the bark before the dog zoomed through the room, tail wagging furiously as she made her way straight to you. You startled back when she rammed into you but laughed as Jackieboy said, “Chica! Who’s a good girl?”

Chica leaned heavily against your legs while you pet her, and the egos lost their minds over her, the other two dogs at the door, and Amy walking in with Tyler, Ethan, Bob, Wade, Kathryn, and a host of balloons that bobbed against the ceiling and bapped Jack in the face as they all tried to hug him at once.

It was all noise and laughter for several minutes until Bob said, “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I was promised a beach and I don’t break out my swim trunks for just anybody.”

As if summoned by those words, Wilford was in the middle of the group of friends, smiling widely as he said, “That’s right, last one gets buried in the sand and left for high tide!”

“Which isn’t as much fun as it sounds,” Jack admitted while everyone went about getting ready. Amid all of the confusion, he made his way over to where you stood off to one side, still awkwardly petting Chica as if hoping to stay out of this mess. Dark couldn’t hear what he asked you, but you smiled and spoke to him in a low voice that failed to carry.

That didn’t stop Wilford from overhearing, or from booming out in his typical, bellowing voice, “What? Stay inside by yourself? I don’t think so!”

“Wait, Wilford, don’t—” you protested, but with one easy gesture Wilford had you over one shoulder and was already out the door.

Jackieboy Man, for his part, looked up from giving Henry a belly rub and said a succinct, “Shit!” before running after him. From his seat, Dark could see the ego stop on the back porch before swinging himself up and over the railing to try and intercept you and Wilford before he made it to the water.

Too bad he’d just been told to leave you alone for once, Dark thought idly to himself as he flipped a page in his book, or he might have been tempted to help. Besides, Jackieboy could handle Wilford on his own. He was supposed to be a _superhero_, after all.

Straining his ears, he could hear Jack, or maybe it was Chase, who could even tell them apart these days, on the back porch say, “Nah, he’s got it Marvin. Or, well, Y/N’s got it, but I’m not sure they _meant_ to pull on his mustache like that.”

Before long, the others all joined you on the beach, leaving the house strangely silent and still in their absence. Dark made it about an hour before he put the book down and began to roam around the house restlessly, but the only ones still inside were the four Googles, who he had no patience to deal with right now, and a sleeping Host.

“Wow, you can walk out in the sunlight without bursting into flame,” Mark said when he spotted Dark standing at a distance from the others in the sand. “I feel like I just lost a bet with someone.”

“It seemed a waste to come so far and not enjoy the view,” Dark said as he took in the crowded beach. Everyone was running around, laughing, playing, splashing in the water or chasing the dogs around the sand. Everyone, he noted, except for you, sitting by yourself under a large umbrella whose origin Dark could only guess at. “Have you noticed…”

He paused when he became aware of Mark giggling and realized that the man was looking at Dark’s bare feet and pants legs rolled up to his knees, but it was when Mark pulled out his cellphone that Dark’s aura flared, looking pale and sickly in the bright sunlight.

** _“I will break you and everything you love.”_ **

“And _I_ will put this on Instagram if you give me a reason to,” Mark replied as his phone’s camera clicked. He smiled at Dark before running off to join Amy and Ethan in playing fetch with Chica, Henry, and Ethan’s dog Spencer.

Dark considered his options and decided to bide his time on that particular problem. For now, he stopped by the cooler sitting open near some of the chairs and made his way over to your umbrella.

You were staring out at the water, eyes unfocused as if your mind was a million miles away, but you blinked and turned your head at the sound of Dark’s approaching footsteps.

“Y/N! I have ze screen to prevent ze sun burn!”

Dark flinched at the sound of that “German” accent as the other doctor came running up with a massive bottle of sunblock in hand.

“Oh, Darkiplier,” Dr. Schneeplestein said when he spotted Dark, “Would you like some as vell? You are looking mighty pale around the toes.”

You snorted trying not to laugh at that, and Dark scowled. The doctor was one to talk with those pasty legs. “No, I’m fine.”

Dr. Schneeplestein shrugged and took a seat next to you. “Hold out your hand, Y/N, and be sure to get your ears! I vill help you vith your back.”

“Thanks, Schneeps, but I can—”

“No, no! Sun burns are very serious, ve do not want any accidents!”

Dark dropped the bottle of water in his hand onto the sand beside you and you drew your hand back as if afraid of it. “I thought you might want this.”

He made it a few steps away before he heard the doctor say quietly, “Is just a bottle of water.”

Dark paused and started to turn around before he was suddenly attacked by a pink maniac in an old-timey bathing suit.

“Dark, you old son of a gun! Finally decided to join us and stop being a grouchy puss?” Wilford said as he pulled Dark into a bone-cracking hug.

“Not a puss,” Dark muttered, even if he felt like a strangled cat trying to get out of that death grip. “I was just going to go for a walk on the beach—”

“Oh, we can do better than that!”

Mark’s laughter at the sight of Wilford sweeping Dark up and carrying him toward the water quickly turned into a scream of horror when Dark reached out and snagged the cellphone out of his hand on the way, because if he was going down then he wasn’t going down alone.

“Do I want to ask?” you said as you rubbed the sunscreen onto your face and up and down your arms.

“Don’t vorry, I am recording it on my phone,” Dr. Schneeplestein said happily beside you. “I vill send it to you later.”

You grinned as you heard Dark’s unholy shriek when he hit the surprisingly cold water and said, “Glad you’ve got my back, Doctor.”

“No, I haven’t started yet,” Schneeplestein said. You felt his hand on your chin, tilting your head as he examined your eyes. “And you vill stay in the shade, yes? Your eyes cannot protect zemselves if zey cannot feel ze sun hurting zem.”

You nodded and, once your hands were clear enough of the sunblock, fumbled to get the cap off the bottle of water Dark brought you. It was a surprisingly nice gesture and one you wished you could have thanked him for before he walked away. At least he’s having fun, you thought as you heard the screech of his aura as Wilford tried to dunk him again, and smiled to yourself.

* * *

Everyone had finished their impromptu lunch of sandwiches and chips before Dark ventured back downstairs again, dry but pride still stinging. Mark and friends were already planning on where to take Jack for an afternoon in town, and you had a few recommendations for where to go after your time with the Host yesterday.

“—And there’s an awesome shop that sells enamel pins just down the street from the theater, it was called…Uh…” You hesitated, but the name failed to come. “It was definitely a pun…”

“Well you can just show us where it is,” Wade said.

“Oh, I was actually planning on staying here,” you said, gaze drifting toward the ground before around at the others. “I told the Septic egos I would help set things up for tonight, remember?”

“Are you sure?” Mark asked. “I’m sure they can figure it out, you don’t _have_ to stay here.”

“I’m sure,” you answered. “Besides, I honestly don’t know if I’m up to going into town. Sorry, Jack—”

“Don’t be,” Jack interrupted. He smiled and threw an arm around your shoulders. “You don’t have to apologize for that! Besides, who knows what we’ll end up getting into without you around to stop us?”

He gave the others a wink, but you didn’t seem to notice as you nodded and said, “Yeah, you guys are totally getting arrested. Be sure to leave some bail money before you leave. And speaking of your egos—”

“Right, I think they’re in the kitchen? Come on, we’ll see if we can track them down,” Jack said, his hand moving down to grab yours as he led you toward the kitchen through the dining room.

“Is everything okay with Y/N?” Amy asked quietly.

“Yeah, I think so,” Mark said as Dark walked in the opposite direction, around the stairs in the center of the house. “They were just out all day yesterday.”

His voice faded into the distance as Dark circled around the first floor to the other entrance to the kitchen. As he silently neared the door, he could clearly hear your voice as you again apologized to Jack.

“It’s just harder than I thought it would be, around everyone else.”

“What was your plan before?” Jack asked. “To hide out with these guys in Brighton all day?”

“That’s pretty much it,” Marvin admitted. “We had their room ready for them and everything.”

_“And plenty of music to keep their spirits up,”_ Jameson’s speech slide added.

“And none of you were going to tell me?” Jack asked.

You spoke up for them, “I asked them not to. Everyone would just worry about me if they knew.”

“Well, _yeah_. That’s what happens when you have friends who care about you.” Jack’s voice sounded muffled, and Dark could imagine that he had just pulled you into a hug. “Don’t think I won’t drag you around town and make sure you have the best day ever with me.”

Your laugh was muffled, but you said, “I was serious about being tired though. Let me save up my energy for the party, at least.”

Dark’s aura gave him a brief warning and he moved away from the door just before the blue-shirted Google entered the dining room and narrowed his eyes at the sight of him. He could still hear the conversation going on the other side of the door, but Dark walked toward the android and, more importantly, the exit behind him.

“What was Darkiplier doing in here?”

“I fail to see how that was any of your business,” Dark said, but Google side-stepped to block him from leaving the room. “Do you want me to break you? Because I won’t say no.”

Google turned his head toward the other door that led into the kitchen and his eyes glowed briefly before he said, “Ah. Eavesdropping. Dark is still obsessing over Y/N.”

**_“Obsessing?_** No, I am just—” Dark exhaled, trying hard to reign in his aura before it was heard by those in the kitchen. “I do not have to explain myself to an overclocked piece of junk like you. **_Move out of my way._**”

Google’s eyes flashed again behind his glasses, but he stepped aside and watched Dark as he walked away. Dark spotted a second Google in the hall when he went upstairs, watching him as he turned to go in the opposite direction. He did not doubt that the android watched him until he disappeared into his own aura and reappeared in the peace and quiet of the attic.

Dark took a moment to check in on the rose, and through the nearby window he saw Jack, Mark, and the others leaving. You were nowhere to be seen among their friends.

You had planned to spend today, of all days, in Brighton, away from the Iplier egos. Away from Mark. Away from him. Being tired he could easily blame on an apparently late night, but you were actively avoiding going out, barely eating, and clearly Jack and those egos of his knew there was something wrong with you. They acted as if they were afraid to leave you alone for even a second.

And they’d known it was coming, today.

_Of course._

* * *

Jack returned to the beach house with the others to find a bright, colorful banner wishing him a "Happy Birthday" hung across the main room. A table holding cake and pizza had been set up to one side and music played from speakers strung up around the room. One half of the room had been cleared, with most of the chairs and couches pushed around the TV and gaming consoles set up there. On one wall was a screen where Chase had, with a little help from Bing, set up a feed which highlighted the fan art and birthday wishes submitted by Jack’s fans across the Internet and from all over the world.

Jack absolutely beamed when his egos tackled him in a group hug, and could barely stop smiling as the party went on, most of it spent wearing the sweater given to him by a proud Dr. Schneeplestein eager to have him open his gift first.

Dark, of course, kept his distance from the party. He watched as you were roped into a game of Smash Bros., Chase insisting on picking your character for you and laughing delightedly when you won a round and could only say, “How?!”

He listened as Mark and Jack dragged the others into an argument over pineapple on pizza while you sat on the couch, head tilted in their direction as if listening but staring at nothing in particular, eyes unfocused as if your thoughts were once again somewhere else.

And, for the moment, you were alone.

In the time it took Dark to cross the room, Jameson, that muppet, appeared seemingly out of nowhere to bow down in front of you and tap you on the shoulder before taking one of your hands. As Dark watched, he put two fingers in your palm and moved them back and forth until you said, “Oh! You want to dance?”

Jameson nodded and tugged your hand toward him.

“Uh, I don’t know about that,” you said, but when he took both of your hands and started to swing your arms back and forth as if cajoling you to stand, you laughed and said, “Alright, but don’t blame me if I step on your feet.”

Jameson mimed a shocked expression at the idea as he pulled you away from the couch and closer to the middle of the open area. Dark watched in silence as he placed your hands for you and started to lead you through the steps.

“Yeah, you really have to nip the rival situation in the bud before it gets to this point.”

Dark slowly turned and stared at Yandereplier, who was leaning against the wall nearby. Their schoolgirl outfit had been swapped for a sundress in concession to the beach, but they’d kept the red neckerchief for some reason. “Excuse me?”

“That whole unrequited love triangle BS you’ve got going over there.” Yan gestured vaguely in the direction of you and Jameson, without even looking up from their phone.

“I don’t think you understand what is going on here,” Dark said, putting as much emphasis on his words as possible to get the point across to Yan that they should really stop talking now.

“And don’t get me started on that whole thing with the Host yesterday. That’s some late stage dating sim game right there.” Yan typed away at a text message that involved a gratuitous amount of knife emojis before looking up at Dark. “Just sayin’, I wouldn’t let that kind of thing happen with my Senpai unless it involved _me_.”

“My…relationship with Y/N can hardly be compared to your infatuation with your so-called ‘Senpai,’” Dark said, that last word dripping with contempt.

“Yeah, you’re more into that whole ‘possession’ thing, right? Kinky, but you do you.”

A burst of static from a nearby speaker warned Dark in time to get his aura under control. Yan had no concept of a relationship outside of what they wanted (Senpai) and the people who could either help them get what they wanted or would just get in the way. On one level, Dark could respect that. On another level, he had to wonder if anyone would _really_ notice if the ego went missing.**_“Either way,_** I do not recall asking for your advice.”

“Well, good, because that just happened,” Yan said.

Dark followed their gesture and saw Chase, apologizing profusely while you tried in vain to wipe the spilled drink off your drenched shirt. Jameson gestured toward himself and you and upstairs, and Chase nodded and said, “Yeah, I’ll just clean this up. Sorry, Y/N—”

Dark watched Jameson take you by the hand and lead you upstairs, toward your room, very aware that Yan was still standing nearby, even if their attention was back on their phone again.

“I would hardly consider that a concern.”

“Sure.”

“But the gentleman thing to do would be to see if they need any help.”

“Yeah, wet shirts are hard to get off.”

Dark’s aura flared out but he quickly reined it back in as he said, through clenched teeth, “Not. Like. That.”

“Okay, but there’s like a hundred ways to hide a body in this house,” Yan said as Dark walked away. “Just something to consider.”

Dark was considering some other things at the moment, starting with how to possibly bleach Yan saying the word “kinky” out of his mind forever. As he reached the top of the stairs, he spotted you and Jameson down the hall and sped up to catch up with you.

Only to slow back down again as he watched how you walked, how you leaned against Jameson now that no one was watching and left Dark quickly reevaluating his earlier assumption.

You stopped a second after Jameson and heard him open your bedroom door just before a familiar voice called from down the hall.

“Hey, Y/N. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, Mark, I’m fine,” you said before Jameson squeezed your hand in warning. That’s when you heard the ringing that had been held back, and the unmistakable double pattern of Dark’s voice.

“Liar.” And then, closer than you were ready for, his voice again. “You can’t even see me, can you?”

You took a step back and turned your face toward his voice. “It’s not a lie, I’m fine. It’s only for a day.”

Dark inhaled sharply and his aura became just that much louder for a second before he calmly said, “I’m going to skin a cat.”

You reached out and, finding the lapel of a jacket, twisted it and pulled it closer. “Don’t you dare. I swear, if you do or say anything, _anything_ to Marvin or any of the others, or even _think_ about ruining yesterday for the Host, I will never forgive you and I will _never_ let it go.”

“…Impressive,” Dark said, but his voice came from further away than you would have expected and with the hint of a laugh.

You reached up cautiously and found a bushy mustache and, above that, a bowler hat.

“Sorry, JJ,” you said and felt a reassuring pat on your shoulder.

“If it means that much to you, then fine,” Dark said, the short trace of humor gone. “But why _today?”_

You sighed. “Look, I already know it sucks that I let this happen on Jack’s birthday, but the spell was supposed to affect both of us at the same time. Marvin said it was hard enough to delay its effect on me until the next day—”

_On Jack’s birthday. _Only Jameson noticed how Dark’s aura seemed to flare between blue and red, leaving erratic afterimages before settling back into place.

“Because any longer would have done more than take away your sight for the same amount of time it was given to the Host,” Dark said, the ringing increasing briefly. “These things always come with a price. You’re just fortunate that magician is better at real magic than he is at card tricks.”

Jameson nudged you with his elbow and you said, “Yeah, that did almost sound like a compliment. I’m just as surprised as you.”

You allowed Dark and Jameson to help you find a shirt and then pushed both of them out of the room while you changed into something not completely soaked. Outside, you could hear Dark ask, “Why exactly did they let the one person who can’t talk to them go upstairs with Y/N?”

You couldn’t see Jameson’s speech slide, but when you stepped out of your room, Dark feigned a gasp and said, “Jameson Jackson, I didn’t expect that kind of language from a _gentleman_.”

You could practically hear the frantic, angry gestures Jameson was giving Dark, but before you could say anything you stumbled, arm outstretched to catch yourself.

Dark, for his part, moved without thinking but froze when you grabbed onto his arm for support. He could see your eyes, unfocused and unseeing as the hand gripping his arm trembled. And, for a moment that lasted far longer than he would care to admit, he was back in that hallway exactly one year ago, bracing your broken body as visions and pain overcame you.

_“It looks like—”_

“What?” Dark said, snapping back to the present and aware of your grip tightening for a second before you straightened up and let go.

“It looks like I tripped on something,” you said, but Dark didn’t believe for a second that was what you were about to say. You turned as if to look for the culprit out of habit and sighed when you realized what you were doing.

_“Perhaps we should get back to the others?”_ Jameson suggested, visibly concerned for you. Dark nodded mutely before remembering you could not see the speech slide and repeating the words for you.

He accompanied the two of you as far as the stairs, where he muttered some excuse about needing to check on something and walked away. Jameson escorted you back to your seat on the couch, before Wilford bellowed, “Jamie! JJ! Son of the Jacks! I see you’re a dancer, but I have to ask: how familiar are you with K-pop?”

You would have given anything to see Jameson’s reaction to that or what happened next as BTS started to play over the speakers, and as if in response Dr. Schneeplestein said, “Do not worry, Y/N, I have got your backside and am recording _everyzhing._”

You spent most of the rest of the party chatting with whoever wandered by, almost always accompanied by Jack or a Septic ego completely willing to loudly declare the name of anyone who walked up to the point it became a joke as the night went on.

And, when you nodded off, apparently everyone was nice enough to let you finally get some sleep, because when you woke up again the room was quiet and felt empty. That is, aside from the person who slid an arm each under your legs and shoulders and picked you up. In a haze, you felt yourself being carried upstairs and thought you tried to say something before the person laid you down on a bed. You felt the blanket being draped over your shoulders and the hand brush your hair, the kiss on your forehead. And you heard the soft tread of the person you could not see, even if you could get your tired eyes to open, walking away and gently shutting the door behind them.


	5. A Different Kind of Birthday

You woke up slowly the next morning, staring at the wall on the far side of the room for a full minute before you made sense of the unfamiliar bed, the sheets that you didn’t recognize, the decorations that were not your own.

Right, the beach house.

The blanket thrown over you sometime in the night slid off to the floor when you finally made the effort to sit up and yawn, catching as you did so an unfamiliar smell, even for this other house. It took a moment to track it to the clear vase sitting on the nightstand near your bed, and to the single rose it held.

At first glance, it appeared to be almost black, but the bright sunlight streaming in through the window caught the flower’s petals and revealed them to be a dark blue in the center before merging into a deep crimson on the outer layers. Its smell was just as rich and sweet as any other rose and filled your nose as you checked the vase and the nightstand, but there was no note to accompany it.

There were, however, several messages from one Doctor Schneeplestein on your phone, most of them accompanied by videos or photos taken yesterday while you could not see. You smiled and let the videos play in between darting into the bathroom (thankful that there was no waiting or awkward bumping into the others who shared this one with you) and making a somewhat decent effort to look human again after sleeping so hard last night. You laughed out loud more than once as you watched Wilford drag Dark into the ocean or the dancing that went on at Jack’s party the night before, but after a while you noticed just how quiet it was on this floor.

You could barely believe the time when you looked at the clock on your phone, and wondered how you managed to sleep this late in a house with this many loud personalities. After taking one last sniff of the rose and pocketing your phone, you left your room and made for the stairs, sure that the others would give you a hard time for sleeping in.

Except, as you walked down the hall, past silent bedrooms and bathrooms, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease. Your steps seemed louder than normal on the stairs, and you already knew that the house was empty even before you reached the bottom.

Not this again, was your first thought. It was bad enough in Mark or the egos’ houses, but being alone in this place that still felt strange and unfamiliar after going on four days set all of your senses on edge.

And you couldn’t shake the feeling that you _weren’t_ alone, despite the silence.

But then it hit you that today was the last day at the beach house. _Of course,_ everyone would be outside, making the most of it.

You were so sure of the idea that you made straight for the back door, but had to pause in the main area of the house. Someone had rearranged the furniture after last night’s party, but what drew your attention was the single balloon in the center of the room. A card at the bottom of its string kept it from floating up to the ceiling, so it just bobbed in place.

Waiting.

From here, you could see your name on the card in bold letters, but you had to move closer and pick it up to read what was written just underneath it:

_Surprise._

The moment you read the word, the room erupted into noise as a crowd of people definitely not there a second ago appeared in a burst of magic. Confetti fell from somewhere, and more balloons rained down around the room

“Surprise!”

Followed by first Mark, then Abe and Wilford, then pretty much everyone else pulling you into a hug, all trying to speak at once while three dogs added to the noise and excitement.

“What’s going on?” you asked, once you were finally given the chance to catch your breath and speak.

“It’s been one year, you silly goose!” Wilford said. “That means it’s your birthday!”

“What he _means_ is,” Mark said, “One year ago from yesterday was the first day you left the mirror for good.”

“And one year ago today is when you met most of us egos,” Dr. Iplier added.

Jackieboy Man cleared his throat and gestured to himself and the other Septic egos.

“The important ones, anyways,” Ed Edgar said, ignoring the glares.

“It’s the day I found out my partner was still alive,” Abe said.

“And it’s the first time we ever even heard you talk,” Wade said, gesturing to himself and the rest of Mark’s friends.

“Yeah, and you probably still don’t remember the first time _we_ met _you_, but we took a vote not to hold it against you,” Bob added.

“The Host reminds Y/N that, for the egos, their ‘birthday’ is the anniversary of their first video. When they are first introduced, and when the fans begin to get to know them. And when they first become a part of our family.”

“One highly dysfunctional, possibly emotionally scarring family,” Mark added before Tyler elbowed him in the ribs. _“Ow.”_

“It’s only fair to celebrate the day you joined us too,” Bim Trimmer said.

“And has nothing to do with, um, with forgetting your other birthdays at all.” Eric twisted his handkerchief. “Um. Since apparently you have more than one a year and we still missed both, no one’s really explained that…”

Dark decided now was a good time to distract Eric by pushing Henry toward him with his foot, at which point Eric promptly melted and forgot what he was talking about.

You blinked back tears as their words sank in, and nearly lost it when Wilford pulled you in for a side hug and declared, “We wouldn’t want you anywhere else. Happy birthday, Y/N!”

* * *

The day was far too short, and passed by far too fast.

Still, there was something soothing about returning to your room at the Iplier egos’ house and unpacking your bag in the quiet after everything was over. There were your own clothes of course, but there were also the gifts.

You smiled as you held a Cloak hoodie up.

_“Dude! We’ve been over this,” Bob said when you opened Mark’s gift and found the Cloak clothing inside._

_“Yeah, giving your own merch as a gift seems a little crappy,” Wade added._

_“What? It’s really comfy!” Mark protested._

_“Come on, man,” Jack chimed in, even as he slid his present for you underneath the table until later._

You laid out the PMA scarf on the dresser, thinking that while you might not ever need to wear it much around here, it would be nice to have the next time you went to Brighton. Beside it you put out the more normal gifts from the others, such as a video game or two, an enamel pin you had been looking at the other day, and a cap Chase had given you that looked very much like his own but with a loaf of bread in place of the usual logo. There was a page of sheet music from Jameson, with old-timey looking cartoons drawn in the margins and along the staves.

Like a magician pulling out colored scarves, you pulled out one, two, three, four Google shirts from your bag, all paler or darker variations on the usual colors. One of them was bright pink, just like the one you got a year ago.

_“We have been told that slightly different variations on a familiar object can come across as comforting,” the blue Google said as you pulled them out of the box. “Otherwise known as the nostalgia factor.”_

_“What, does this make you an honorary Google now?” Ed Edgar asked, tilting his cowboy hat back as he looked into the box._

_Google scowled. “Incorrect on every level as always, Edgar.”_

You paused when you pulled the stuffed animal out of your bag. At least, you thought it was some kind of animal, but no one seemed to be able to agree on which one. Guesses so far had ranged from bear, dog, fox, to kangaroo, raven, and the default option for anything strange, platypus.

_After time together in the house, several of you had taken the celebration into town, first finding some food and then walking around the streets until you wound up at an arcade where everyone had split up to try and win tickets._

_At first, you thought the stuffed creature was an arcade prize when Wilford showed it to you, but there was nothing like it behind the counter. You seriously doubted there was anything like it anywhere._

_“This little monster has a special secret just for you,” Wilford said, winking as he handed you the animal of indeterminate species. He grinned as you examined it and found the zipper on the back._

_“…Wilford, this is a knife.”_

_“Because you never know when you’re going to need to administer a good stabbing.” He gave you a reassuring thump on the back and walked away, whistling._

You decided that secret could stay between you, Wilford, and “the little monster” and put the stuffed creature up on your dresser, where it could keep an eye on your entire room. You could only pity the fool who crossed the path of Sir or Lady Yet-to-be-Named.

As you rummaged through the pockets of your bag, you thought you had come across some unspent arcade tickets until you pulled out the stack of laminated cards. Each of them had the image of an Iplier ego just above a block of text.

_“IOUs? Really?” Mark asked when he had first spotted them. “Did all of you do this?”_

_All four Google units shook their head, their expressions showing exactly what they thought of the idea, but the other Iplier egos grinned._

_“One card equals unlimited time with the matching ego, no questions asked,” Bim Trimmer said, his tone suggesting that he was announcing a prize of some kind. “Because what better gift is there than quality time with us?”_

_Mark started to answer, but Bing spoke over him. “Suh, and check out the flip side! You can also use your card to get us to leave you alone for the day!”_

_Bing paused and, looking at the other egos, asked, “Your guys’ cards said that too, right? It wasn’t just mine?”_

_“…What’s it take to get one of these?” Mark muttered as he flipped the card over and read the back._

You straightened the stack of ego cards and found one among them that didn’t match. It was a small, dark card with bright silver writing that caught the light and seemed to glow as you read it.

_One (1) get out of Little Y/N for a Day free card. Can be used at any time before or during the spell’s effect._

_“This is a joke, right?” you had asked Marvin suspiciously after he handed you the card when the others weren’t paying attention. _

_“What? Of course, I would never abuse a spell I recently learned for my own amusement or as a gift for someone else,” the magician said, laughing at the idea. His eyes glinted behind his mask as he added in a lower voice, “You might want to keep that on you though, just in case.”_

You considered the card for a moment before pulling the wallet out of your pocket and sliding it into an open space. The wallet was another gift, of course, as was the photograph inside.

_Abe had waited until after the day in town, after everyone had returned to the house, until the one last trip to the beach. Out on the sand, where for once in his life his so-called undercover Hawaiian shirt almost blended in, Abe pulled you aside and said, “Here, Partner. From me.”_

_“Your wallet?” you asked._

_“What? No! I’m never giving that up,” Abe said, offended at the very idea. “No, this is _your_ wallet. There’s no badge, of course, but they’re still useful for keeping the important things around.”_

_You took the leather wallet and opened it to find a picture already inside. It was one of you and Abe, taken during a “case” that mainly seemed to involve staking out an ice cream parlor for reasons the detective had no time to explain then or ever since._

You smiled at it now as you had then, just before you had looked up at Abe and said, “I’ll take good care of it, partner.”

There were more photographs in the bag, which had been tucked away in their own pocket so as not to bend. You took your time going through them, picking which ones to add to the cork board on your wall here and which to take to your room at Mark’s house.

A picture of Mark, side eyeing a mannequin in one of the store windows. Jack with Ethan on his shoulders, both together still not tall enough to match the imposing statue in the center of town. The Host, splashing in the water with the other egos. Amy and Kathryn standing proud beside the clear winner of a sand castle building competition. You in one of your new Google shirts, a rare smile on the androids’ faces as they leaned into the shot. A surprise encounter with the Chef at the place where you stopped for lunch (seriously, did he work everywhere? But at least you got a free dessert, so that was nice), giving the camera a crooked smile as he leaned over Mark’s chair while Mark’s face was locked into more of a grimace, his eyes trying not to look at the dripping knife next to his shoulder

And then there were pictures you hadn’t personally taken. There was a wonderful picture of Wilford dragging Dark out into the ocean, which you knew you would cherish forever. You’d found a selfie on your phone taken by the Host, his eyes glowing gold as he tilted the camera to catch you sipping coffee in the background. The Septic egos lined up and dancing together like a boy band. Mark, Wade, Bob, Tyler, and Ethan apparently in a dance-off with said egos, with Jack as a heavily biased referee. A photo mixed in from Jack’s camera of Chase looking up at the tiny version of you perched on the brim of his cap (“Photoshop”, you and Jack had said to Mark before hastily hiding the rest of those pictures).

There was also a picture of you from last night, asleep on the couch with Chica, Henry, and Spencer all joining you for a nice nap.

_The Host had asked at one point how Jack’s party went. The egos were more than happy to tell him plenty of stories (and while you hadn’t been able to see at the time, you were fairly sure more than a few of them were made up). Mark and Jackieboy took the opportunity to roast each other’s dance moves while Jack just said again how grateful he was for everything._

_But you had to admit to the Host that you had fallen asleep early and missed some of it. “Someone even had to carry me up to my room after it was over. I wish I knew who it was so I could thank them.”_

_Because so far no one had admitted to being the one to carry you upstairs, and you certainly hadn’t mentioned the kiss to anyone. The closest you got was when Marvin said the idea had been thrown around to let you sleep on the couch all night and surprise you in the morning, which explained why no one else seemed to be around when you were taken to your room._

_The Host was well aware that more than one person was suddenly listening, and there might be repercussions depending on what he said. He was also well aware of the standard response to give in situations like this, so he answered without hesitation:_

_“Kinkiplier.”_

There was only one other gift, one that you had carried in rather than put in your bag. Dark hadn’t spoken to you once today, but you had no doubt in your mind who had given you the rose which now sat on your nightstand beneath the mirror on the wall.

A pretty flower didn’t even begin to make up for everything he had put you and everyone else through over the past year, but you’d kept it anyways. A more cynical part of you wondered how anything could possibly have survived under his care as you studied the way the colors mixed and blended together, until you paused, your thumb gently pressed against one of the petals. At the base of it, almost hidden among the deep reds and blues, was a shot of green. Examining the rose closer, you found more than one of the petals had traces of green in their folds, hidden from sight.

Strange. If you had to guess, you would have thought this was a red rose that had blue dye added to it at some point, or a white rose with both colors added. So how did that get there?

You inhaled, taking in the sweet scent of the rose one last time before replacing the vase on your nightstand. As you straightened up you caught sight of your reflection in the mirror and hesitated. It was the same mirror that always turned up in your room again and again no matter how many times you tried to get rid of it. By this point you had just taken to covering it up with a sheet or something whenever it bothered you.

One year. One year and a day ago you fell through a mirror and into this place, back into a life that still felt like it wasn’t completely your own. You thought of the District Attorney as you stared at your own reflection and managed a smile for them.

“Happy Birthday. Here’s to another year, together.”

You thought you saw a flicker of movement, something slightly off around the eyes, but when you blinked it was just your own reflection staring back at you. You sighed and, feeling a little silly, walked away to take care of one last thing before getting ready for bed. You failed to notice the swiftly fading imprint on the mirror’s surface.

The mark left by a hand, pressed against the other side of the glass.

That one last thing was a photograph, the only one that you had chosen to frame. You smiled at the image as you hung the frame on your wall and stepped back to make sure it was level.

It was a wide, panorama shot of everyone. You, Mark, Jack, Abe, all of the egos, all of your friends, even Dark being held in place by a borderline choke hold from Wilford, all gathered together on the beach and smiling at the camera. A rare picture of your family all in one place.

Your admittedly weird, dysfunctional, possibly emotionally scarring family, which you wouldn’t give up for the world.


End file.
